Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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Emery had no idea how fast his heart was pounding until the engine died and the wind stopped blowing, telling him that they were no longer on the road. The house was dark, as expected, but that wasn't what threw his nervousness to the roof; the nervousness that came late, sweeping off the excitement he'd been feeling for the last twenty minutes by its feet and tossing it far away.
He didn't want it to control him. This was his night. Their night. He wanted it to be nothing more than perfect, and a perfect night doesn't play out if you're nervous all the time. So Emery kept telling himself that.
He's not nervous. He's not nervous. He's not–
"You're nervous."
Cameron seeing through him wasn't exactly a big surprise, but it didn't help nurse Emery's pride either. He let out a shaky breath. There was no point in hiding anymore.
Emery didn't say anything. Maybe if he pretended to be deaf this could all still go according to plan.
Cameron took his helmet off slowly, laughing at the face the redhead made when it was finally pried off his head. Emery was starting to realize he hated helmets. Wouldn't it be easier if people just drove slowly to avoid getting their brains on the floor?
Emery jolted when Cameron held his hands. "Do you still want to do this?"
He met the blond's eyes with conviction. "I do," he answered, holding Cameron's face between his hands and pressing their lips together with a smile.
Cameron kissed him back, grinning giddily as they made out, slowly backing away from his bike and toward the house. Cameron needed this kiss more than he'd let on; to have something to keep his throat from drying. Looking at Emery through the mirror of his motorcycle with the wind blowing in the redhead's face was a challenge to his senses, a grand fucking torture after that risky kiss they shared in a cramped public restroom. He didn't realize a person can make him feel this excited, to have this kind of thrill in his life that rivaled all those times he felt somewhat close to alive.
And they haven't even made it inside the house yet.
"You're a liar," he murmured, unable to fight the urge to kiss Emery again.
The redhead let out a confused laugh. "What?"
"Licorice is... horrible," Cameron paused between breaths, relishing the sound of Emery's laughter. "How can you eat that shit?"
Emery hummed. "Maybe you should stop kissing me then."
"Nuh-uh..." Cameron shook his head, subsequently rubbing their noses together. "No deal."
The way to the door is tricky when you have your back turned against it and a cute redhead has a tight hold on your faculties, but Cameron made it. The door slammed shut, and Cameron threw his keys into the bow next to him. He missed, but that was the least of the many least of his concerns. The sound of metal clanging on the floor was followed by the sound of their lips touching everything but each other's – their jaws, their necks – the parts that made Emery's toes curl and Cameron's fingers turn to fists. They were holding back, trying to savor the moment even though they both knew the feigning wasn't going to last any longer.
